A/N: Warning! This chapter contains a smidgen of fluff, but just a smidgen. Very small smidgen. I was going to have it in the last chapter, but it didn't fit. Some may consider it pointless, I don't know, but I liked it so put it in anyways. And why don't we see the bird anymore? I liked the bird.

Also, I would like to apologize if I seemed cold or generic about Bipolar disorder. I'm telling you now, there is more wrong with Leon than just being Bipolar. Before writing the story, I already assessed there should be more wrong with him than just one diagnosis. I just wasn't going to get into it until later when Don and the rest start looking into Leon and why he's wanted by the FBI. After all, they only have a piece of paper telling about him, not yet the whole file. I chose Bipolar because most everyone goes for Schizophrenia, and I wanted to go for something a little different. And yes, Don would be naive – even biased - about mental disorders, and Megan's assessment of Leon as being off his rocker was more a personal vendetta remark because he hurt Charlie and was nothing against anyone with any disorders. It should be cleared up in this chapter.

Ch. 11

Assessment

It was still possible that – even with Leon being real – his continual appearance to Charlie was in fact only a fear-induced hallucination. It wouldn't have been the first time if it was, either. During High school, Charlie had acquired one or two enemies by no fault of his own (so went the ways of being unique). The worst had been a guy that had been on Don's baseball team; Alex Samuels. Six feet straight, and thick as an ox (physically and mentally). Yet for all the kid's supposed density, he'd been clever about planting a few punches on the much smaller and more fragile Charlie without Don ever finding out until later.

Come to think of it, Don thought as he reminisced, stretched out on the couch with his hands folded behind his head laying on the armrest, Alex had cracked one of Charlie's collarbones. Alex knocked Charlie's books to the ground, then kicked him while he was crouching to pick them up.

At least that was the story he had been told by Alicia Daniels. She had been just one of the few girls who had harbored a soft spot for Charlie. And Don had been glad for it. She had been the means for Don's discovery of his little brother's assailant. Charlie had never said anything, except make excuses such as falling out of a tree or getting knocked down by a stray dog. But once the truth was out, it was Alex who suffered it worse once Don got his hands on him. Don nearly got suspended for that, but the rest of the team had backed Don up, denying seeing anything if they had seen anything at all.

Don had never understood why Charlie didn't just tell. He had always assumed it to be some irrational fear that the bullies would find out and exact harsh revenge. That might have been true, but in light of recent events, Don wondered if perhaps Charlie had never told because he wanted to forget. Nothing had ever gotten as bad as it did with this Leon creep, but they had been bad in their own way, leaving Charlie strangely subdued and withdrawn, then jumpy. For one week, Charlie thought he saw Alex standing on every street corner, or hiding behind every bush or tree. But only for a short time. If he didn't forget, he had at least pushed the memories to the dark corners of his mind to be buried in dust – kind of like forgetting in that it no longer bothered him.

But even then, once Charlie had gotten a good look at the supposed Alex and knew it wasn't him, he would immediately relax. Back then, hallucinations had been mere mind tricks easy to dismiss.

It was different now, but neither proved nor disproved whether Leon was in fact stalking Charlie.

With his eyes adjusted to the dark, Don could distinguish black shapes in the blue-black darkness. Moonlight through the windows sharpened those shapes, but gave then unusual angles and edges. His childhood home had altered into a surreal landscape, and Don found it amusing as well as disturbing. If he stared for too long, and too hard, at a particular shape, some of the shadows seemed to move, which made his heart jolt.

Jumpy as he was, Don still couldn't begin to fathom how Charlie must be feeling. Small noises alone would have him snapping awake and looking about in terror. Noises had yet to bother Don, because he knew what to listen for when it came to unusual verses normal sounds. A creak was nothing. More than one was reason to stir.

But he and David had checked the house and yard as thoroughly as they could. They asked neighbors about strange noises or strange people wandering the streets. One guy complained about his dogs going off like maniacs sometime around four in the morning, but he had chalked it up to a stray cat or raccoon.

After a dinner of pizza – which Charlie never came down for – David went home. Alan took some pizza up to Charlie and left it in his room, but both he and Don doubted he would even touch it. Alan had finally let himself relax after Don told him about Charlie agreeing to go see a doctor. In fact, since coming from Charlie's room after the talk and promises, the general mood of the house felt like a rampaging tiger finally settling down for a nap. There was still worry and uncertainty, but there was now room for some calm.

Don, however, must not have been as calm as he thought. He couldn't get to sleep. There was too much to think about, too much to try to understand or figure. The FBI side of his brain wanted to analyze Leon, know who the guy was and what he was about. The regular, everyday Don Eppes part wanted to focus on Charlie, and wonder whether or not his brother might find peace once this whole ordeal was over. The two sides were putting up one hell of a fight, interchanging but never melding together.

Don closed his eyes, shutting out the moon-sharpened shapes, and forcing his chaotic brain to focus on a single subject not related to the present situation.

Don caught the soft whisper of rustling feathers, and grinned wondering if his dad had taught that bird anything new to say. Charlie had actually taught it to count to ten, but then the bird had always been more amiable around him. Most animals were, though Charlie rarely noticed. Their mom's old cat used to follow Charlie around up until it died when Charlie was eight. Charlie just found it annoying when it would sit on his books while he was doing homework. But he had dropped hints, now and then, about getting another cat. Yet their mom had no desire for a replacement.

These thoughts lulled Don's mind into quietude and he felt himself begin to drift into more incoherent images.

Then he heard a creak, followed by another creak, then another. Don snapped upright, only to become perfectly still as he listened. There came no more creaks, and Don saw no distinguishable movement within the shadows. But still he couldn't relax. He had heard something, something that wasn't supposed to be heard this time of night.

" Hi Don."

Don's heart slammed into his ribs, practically knocking the breath from him. " Crap! Charlie? Where are you?"

A light was clicked on, and Don squinted despite the lack of brightness from the lamp. Charlie was sitting stiffly in the easy chair, rubbing his hands on his thighs as though trying to dry them off. He was still in his clothes that were now rumpled. The poor light cast sharp shadows on his pale face, making him look much thinner than he actually was. He gave Don a brief, sickly, sheepish smile, then finally forced his hands to clasp together into holding still.

" Um, I'm just right here. Did I wake you up? I'm really sorry Don, I tried not to..."

Don held up one hand as he used the other to push himself back against the arm rest. " Hey no, it's okay. Wasn't sleeping too good to begin with. Something wrong?"

Charlie looked down at his hands as though studying them. He took a deep breath, and a tremor passed through him as though ice water had been poured down his back. " I just, um, you know, couldn't sleep good either. My side, you know. Kind of bugging the crap out of me," he said with a half-hearted laugh and a poor attempt at a smile. He cleared his throat uneasily and shrugged. " So, you know, I thought 'well, this is pointless' and thought that maybe walking around for a little bit might help get me tired enough to ignore everything else..."

Don blinked sore eyes. " Charlie, did you have a bad dream?"

Charlie looked at Don, though his gaze kept trying to drift elsewhere. " I, uh, thought I heard something. I just... didn't feel comfortable... I know you and David searched and didn't find anything. But it's hard. It's hard not to think he's out there. Even when he was just a dream it was hard. It's different now that I know he's real. I'm not sure how I can explain it, it just feels different. Not really worse, not really better, just different. I guess I'm still not sure what to believe."

Charlie fell silent for a moment, and Don just watched him, waiting for more words or for Charlie to drift off to sleep. Instead, he saw his brother's eyes shimmering, and knew he was tearing up.

" I'm scared Don," he said in a voice trying to remain steady but wavering. Charlie cleared his throat, but nodded instead of spoke as though in confirmation of his own words.

Instead of responding, Don pulled himself off the couch and headed to the antique cupboard where their mom had stored extra blankets. He pulled out the green one, which had always been on the top, then headed to Charlie whose gaze was turned away to stare at the blank TV screen. Don draped the blanket over him, then went back to the couch and sat.

Spare blankets had always been important in the Eppes household. For visitors, yes, but also for those who chose strange places to sleep. Charlie always had a way of sleeping where his math took him. And rather than wake him and allow him to pick up where he left off, their mother would put a blanket over him, and shake her head, commenting on the sore neck or back Charlie would have in the morning.

Charlie turned his head to look at Don, and Don was shocked by the amount of emotion he saw in Charlie's eyes. Not sadness, not fear, but a gratitude so great it seemed to hurt him.

Don didn't know what to say, or even think, to that. It overwhelmed Don, making him feel a little uncomfortable, bringing to mind all the days he had been impatient or angry with Charlie. Recalling the fury toward Charlie when their mother had been dying. Don could not understand what it was Charlie was so grateful for. Don was just doing his job. Just being the big brother looking out for the little brother. No big deal.

Don cleared his own throat. " Um, sure you don't want the couch?"

Charlie seemed to break from his trance. He pulled the blanket up to his neck and shook his head, blinking back tears before they could fall.

" No! I mean, I'm fine. I do have a bed. I just... Anyway, why aren't you sleeping in your old room again?"

" You can hear things better down here, just in case."

" Oh, yeah, okay. Yeah, I guess you can."

They fell into more silence, Charlie's gaze roving the room distractedly. It wasn't long before sleepless nights caught up with him, and his head lolled to the side when his eyes closed.

Don shook his head. " His neck is gonna hurt." But there was nothing to be done. Don rose and clicked off the lamp, then went back to the couch and stretched out. " Just like my back," he muttered before finding a focal point for his thoughts, then drifting off as well.

333333333333

The simple task of taking Charlie to the doctor seemed more like a rather morbid family outing. Don had volunteered to take him, but Alan insisted on coming in case Charlie convinced Don to turn around.

Since the appointment had been last minute, the wait was rather long. And it was an agonizing wait to boot. As the minutes ticked away, Charlie's discomfort grew another notch. He began twitching his leg up and down, wringing his hands together, and glancing nervously around.

" Eppes, Charles?"

Charlie jumped, and snapped his head around to look at the tall, middle-aged doctor with the graying dark hair. Charlie rose, cringing slightly, and followed the doctor down the long hall.

He felt like a little kid, wishing Don or their dad would come with him.

To what? Hold your hand?

It's just the doctors, get over it! But that was always easier said than done.

They entered the examination room, and the doctor had Charlie sit on the exam table as he asked him questions and had Charlie explain the situation. Charlie delivered his rehearsed oration of ailments Don had forced him to practice, ensuring that Charlie mentioned everything that was going wrong. He talked of not being able to sleep, to eat, about the pain in his side, the cuts on his back that burned sometimes, as well as where all these problems originated.

It was hard talking about it, about being kicked and punched repeatedly by a mad man for no reason. Charlie was vague at first, but the doctor's unceasing questions forced out the details.

" Did you feel something crack when this man kicked you?"

" I – I really don't remember."

The doctor wrote something down on a clipboard, then set both clipboard and pen on the counter. " We may need to take X-rays. Let me take a look at the bruising."

When the doctor approached, reaching out to lift the back of Charlie's shirt, Charlie flinched back, nearly slipping from the table. The doctor halted, startled.

" It's all right, Mr. Eppes. I just want to look. I won't need to do anything immediately."

Charlie tensed, forcing himself to hold still as the doctor checked his side and back.

" The cuts need to be cleaned. There's extensive bruising on your side. You'll need X-rays."

He then lowered Charlie's shirt.

What followed was still unpleasant, even embarrassing. He had to wear a hospital gown, have his blood tested for infection, grit his teeth as a nurse swabbed the cuts with alcohol. The X-rays revealed that he had three cracked ribs, and had to get a bandage around his chest, which was all they could do besides giving him slightly stronger pain medication. He was also prescribed sleeping pills, but it was up to him to enable himself to eat.

When finished, Charlie didn't feel any better, and the bandage around his chest made it uncomfortable to breath. The pressure of it, however, eased the ache in his side.

Once dressed, he was led back out into the waiting room where his father and brother stood as though Charlie had just come out of major surgery. The doctor went up to them and told them of Charlie's situation.

" He's anemic, and showing signs of malnutrition, but it's nothing severe. I'm aware he's been under a lot of stress and still is, so you need to watch him. It's easy to slip off course when you've been through something traumatic." The doctor then turned to Charlie and handed him a card. " On there is the number to the councilors we have on hand if you need to talk. It's not therapy or group sessions, just private discussions. It might help to talk to someone, get things off your chest."

But Charlie had already talked to someone. Still, out of manners, he took the card and thanked the doctor. Right now, though, all he wanted to do was leave.

Going home would have been better, but Don needed Charlie to come into the office. They headed over to headquarters after dropping off a relieved and satisfied Alan who threatened to put sleeping pills in Charlie's tea if he didn't see the younger man take them tonight. Even Charlie couldn't help a small smile at the threat. In a way, despite the discomfort of the exam, Charlie found contentment in the fact that it was finally over and he wouldn't have to be hounded about it anymore.

Yet as they approached the FBI building, Charlie discovered a new reason to be nervous. He knew why Don was bringing him in, and it wasn't to help on a case.

Once they arrived and parked, Don led the way as Charlie followed timidly behind. Don kept looking over his shoulder at Charlie, not even trying to hide his concern. Once they were on the elevator, Don stared at Charlie.

" Sure you're up for this?"

Charlie was staring up though he didn't know why. The numbers were at hand level and it wasn't like he could see through the ceiling to watch the elevator rise. " I don't even know what it is I need to be up for?"

Don looked at the floor. " A recount, Charlie. There's someone I need you to talk to. You'll need to remember a few... things."

Charlie's throat tightened. " Oh."

When they reached the top and stepped out, they were met by a man who was both around Don's age and height, though a little more thickly built than Don. He had cropped sandy hair and a somewhat round face, with gray-blue eyes that were quick to focus and penetrate, assessing everything at a glance. He was wearing a white shirt, and over that the standard dark blue FBI jacket. He was sitting on the corner of a desk, and rose when Don and Charlie approached him.

" Agent Eppes?" the man asked, looking Don over quizzically. Don held out his hand and the man took it in a single shake.

" Agent McAllister. Glad you could meet me. This is my brother Charlie, the one I called you about."

The agent looked over at Charlie and nodded once in greeting. " You saw Leon then?"

Charlie cleared his throat. The way the agent was looking at him, hard and unwavering, was making Charlie nervous. " Um, yeah, I did."

McAllister nodded, then looked at Don. " Let's talk then."

They headed into the conference room where they found Megan talking to a woman with dark red hair that went past her shoulders and a slightly freckled face. McAllister gestured at her.

" Agent Eppes, this is Agent Hanson, our profiler on the case."

Hanson rose and shook hands with Don, but only smiled and nodded at Charlie. They all sat down, except for McAllister who stood at the front of the table.

Agent McAllister had seemed the no nonsense type the moment Charlie had seen him, and proved the assessment true when he jumped straight to the point.

" We've been after Leon for a year now. He's all that's left of a team of professional thieves we've been hunting for a lot longer. And when I say professional I mean it. These weren't your dress up in black, breaking and entering using clever toys bunch. These guys went high tech. Sort of like those Charm School Boys you dealt with last year."

Charlie winced inwardly at the memory, though Don didn't even bat an eye.

" The thing is, our boys didn't even need to actually rob the bank. One method they used was to get hired as employees, hack into the system to ensure they were hired, and if they weren't then they'd try something else. Come in as maintenance workers, computer techs, whatever they could to get to the computer systems. They'd then set up programs that would download as much info as they could, or at least make it easier for them to slip into the heavily secured systems. They never got greedy, just took what they could when they could. Been traveling all over the country doing it, and showed up here two years ago. They were patient, that was their strength. They took their time, planned everything out to the last detail, and never even had to fire a gun. When the heist went down, it went down fast. Took us four years to figure these guys out, four freakin' years, even with collaboration from FBI all over the country."

Agent Hanson turned herself to face the rest of the group. " They were always a step ahead. We started calling them the Spooks because of the way they slipped in and out without ever being seen."

" So what was their downfall?" Don asked. " I'm assuming there was one if you're hunt went from a whole group to a single guy."

McAllister nodded, his expression grim. " Believe it or not, their downfall came from the inside. A kind of a falling out, all thanks to our buddy Leon. Kind of stupid luck, really, that we caught any of them. Gun fire was reported, cops went to the sight, and those that survived and didn't run off started confessing. They were handed over to us, and through them we were able to round up the rest. To make a long story short, it seems Leon instigated a little paranoia between the gang. There were around eight guys in all, and Leon got them all to take sides. When we asked why, this one guy said it was because Leon started getting paranoid, talking about the possibility of betrayal because someone in the gang wanted all the money for themselves. The paranoia spread, fights broke out, and in less than two minutes the Spooks had disbanded. Supposedly, Leon did most of the shooting, even killing guys who had taken his side."

Now it was Hanson who took over again. " The symptoms of being Bipolar include extreme mood shifts with manic episodes. One week a person might be extremely energetic, happy, irritable, angry, and sometimes even violent though not always. Another week they may experience major lows, loss of interest, major depression. Or the person can return to a normal emotional state. It's not easy to diagnose, but when it is a person can still lead a normal and healthy life through medication and counseling. What's going on with Leon, however, is more than him simply being Bipolar. We were able to track down his history over time, and learned that he was temporarily hospitalized by court order – not for being Bipolar – but for extreme violent tendencies, like nearly beating a man to death because the man grabbed the wrong beer. We talked to the doctor who had treated him. He had diagnosed Leon as being Bipolar after careful observation and questioning. He put him on various meds which helped to rein in the mood shifts, but did not stop him from acting out in violence. It's why his doctor also diagnosed him as being possibly sociopathic. Possibly because Leon sometimes expressed remorse without being coaxed to do so, even if it didn't always seem sincere. He could just have extreme anger management problems. He was also a paranoid, which was at its worse when he was off the meds. For the most part, Leon's the type who looks out only for Leon. He's smart, which is why the gang recruited him. He was the reason for the gang's success. Whatever Leon planned, they did. Then – and this is my theory – sometime during their spree, Leon stopped taking his meds. Probably realized we could track him through the prescriptions. Paranoid and smart can make for a dangerous combination. So, off his meds, and coupled with his other problems, Leon lashed out and brought the whole organization down in a day."

" Did the doctor say why Leon was even released if he was so violent?" Megan asked.

Hanson smiled bitterly. " Good behavior. Leon was smart, he wanted out, so acted the part of the good little patient to do so. Personally, I think he found the gang instead of the gang finding him. Put the gang together himself. For a time, I even believed Leon instigated the conflict with the gang to get them out of the way and take what was stolen. But, after hearing what happened to your brother," Hanson said, looking at Don, " it got me wondering."

Megan looked at Charlie. " We still can't figure why Leon let you go. He might have thought you dead, so useless. But had that been the case, he wouldn't have left you where someone could find you. The other possibility is that he didn't want to be tied down to one spot keeping an eye on you."

Hanson nodded in agreement. " Off the meds, on the meds, he might become irrational at times but that doesn't mean he doesn't know what he's doing. I mean he's eluded us this long despite all his former buddies being caught or killed, so he must be doing something logical." She then looked at Charlie. In fact all eyes turned to him, and he had to fight the urge to shrink under so many gazes.

" I was told that you've seen Leon recently?" Hanson said.

Charlie shrugged uncertainly. " Outside my house, at the school. But I wasn't sure."

Hanson shifted her gaze to Don. " We need to find him. I don't need to tell you that the man's dangerous in more ways than one."

McAllister leaned forward with his hands on the table and looked straight at Charlie. " Can you remember where Leon took you?"

Charlie's heart felt as though it had dropped into his stomach. He hadn't even been able to see five feet of sidewalk during that storm. Happening on that warehouse and Leon had been chance, a statistical anomaly. And he'd been just as unaware of his surroundings when heading home. It was anomaly he had even made it home.

" It was a warehouse," Charlie replied, not knowing what else to say.

" Could you find it again?"

Charlie shook his head and began rubbing his forehead in agitation. " I'm... not sure. I couldn't see, that's how I got lost." In all truth, Charlie didn't want to find it again. He didn't want to have to go back.

" We could retrace his steps," Don suggested. " Start from CalSci, see what we could find."

Charlie looked at Don in alarm, but did not protest though the prospect of going back made him sick to his stomach. Don looked at Charlie, and apparently took notice of his brother's distress at the suggestion.

" You don't have to go, Charlie," he said. " Just point the way. It can't be that far from campus if you just stumbled on it."

Don's words should have helped Charlie relax, but they didn't. He nodded stiffly; a non-committal reply.

" I doubt we'd find anything," Hanson said. " Not if he's on the move."

" Why wouldn't he just leave the city?" Megan asked.

Hanson could only shrug. " We may know a lot about Leon, but not everything, like what he's up to. Why he might be following Charlie..."

Why he didn't just kill me? Charlie thought. The more he learned of Leon, accepted the reality of the man, the sicker he felt. There were no equations for men like Leon, no formulas to break him down to patterns and habits. He was the real anomaly in this whole situation.

And, apparently, he couldn't be caught.

Charlie doubted he would be able to eat any time soon.

333333333333

A/N: Leon's actions and mentality are not a reflection of those with Bipolar disorder or what I think people with the disorder act like. Leon is my own creation, made-up, with various instabilities, and not based on anyone with similar problems. I'm not sure if someone with Leon's problems would act as Leon does, but I needed someone who was both violent and unpredictable, so used what I could and knew of. To learn more about Bipolar disorder there are numerous websites that you can visit. I would give an address, but I can't find the one I was using. There might also be better sites than the one I used. I just needed basic info to use for a definition.